Jean-Jaques was born more or less on the streets of Marseille 32 years ago.
He was abandoned by his mother as a small boy - he never knew his father.
The first thing he can clearly remember from his childhood, is fighting for
a piece of bread with another street urchin - a piece of bread the baker had
thrown away.
Pretty soon, Jean-Jaques learned to be fast and have stamina - the alternative
was to go hungry at all times. Jean-Jaques became a street urchin - and was
good at it. Picking pockets like a pro, he was seldom caught. And when someone
tried to catch him, he ran away until they stopped pursuing him. He was in
perfect physical condition - sinewy strong and with a stamina like iron.
"Really, I try to forget the first part of my life. That which were for other
kids a time of playing and happiness, is not so for me. There is not much to
tell about that time - good times, at least. I think it will suffice to say that
I became a street urchin - and one of the tough ones, at that - to survive,
and that it was not a good time for me.
"The only thing I am grateful that I didn't do in this time, is something that
I couldn't later make amends for - such as killing a man. Many street urchins
have done something like this early on in their life, and never escaped that
haunt. This doesn't mean that I am proud of what I did - stealing, bullying
others, and other petty crimes - it only means that I am glad I survived that
time without killing or injuring someone for life."
One day, Jean-Jaques tried a little breaking and entering on a salle - the
wardrobes seemed to have poor security, and looked like easy pickings. While
the attendant looked another way, Jean-Jaques snuck in and got down to the wardrobe.
The lockers were easy to open for someone skilled at that - pretty soon his
pockets were bulging with watches, wallets, and other things that didn't belong
to him.
Then, his luck ran out. Or so it seemed, at least. Discovered with his pockets
full of things not belonging to him, and holding a rather expensive watch in
his hands, Jean-Jaques was surrounded by angry, and for him enormous, young
men. Startled, he dropped the watch he was holding, and looked at it while it
fell down to the floor, seemingly in slow motion. It hit the tiled floor hard,
and the young Jean-Jaques was astonished to see the explosion of little springs,
cranks, and other unidentifiable watch parts spreading out on the floor.
"Ah yes, the wrist watch. It is rather incredible how many little parts that
are in one of those mechanical wrist watches - not like the digital watches
that are so common nowadays, but one of the really good mechanical ones. I
have to admit it seemed like it were hundreds of little parts bouncing around
on the floor for ages, but I guess it was just the enormity of the situation
that was impressing itself on me."Henri became rather annoyed - and quite
rightfully so, at that - as this wrist watch had been a gift from his father.
Luckily, we got that straightened out later on. Henri is... or rather was, perhaps,
one of my best friends. It pains me that I do not know his whereabouts today."
Immediately, one of the students became very angry, and pushed Jean-Jaques. Hard.
Jean-Jaques pushed back. Suddenly, the circle of angry students was widened to
an arena, with the angry student and Jean-Jaques in the middle. The student
immediately assumed a strange, boxing-like posture, and started executing attacks
toward Jean-Jaques.
Jean-Jaques tried to protect himself as well as he could, and tried to stay
out of the reach to the much larger young man. Desperate, he tried to get out
of the ring, but the ring couldn't be broken - Jean-Jaques was merely pushed
back into the impromptu arena.
Jean-Jaques held his own for a long time - the stamina that had been a survival
trait on the street now became his best, and perhaps only, weapon against this
trained fighter using something that Jean-Jaques had never encountered before.
Jean-Jaques had only one real defense against this opponent - to be quick.
"That fight was a living nightmare for me. I remember it clearly, even after
all this time. I had never really fought someone without a route of
escape, so that I later could ambush whomever that had tried to fight me.
It may sound a bit harsh and very dishonorable, but that is life on the streets
for you.
"Anyways, back to this particular fight. I was doing my utmost just trying to
stay upright after the first few kicks. My head was pounding, and my nose was
bleeding, but I knew - I knew - that I couldn't allow myself the luxury
of unconsciousness. So there I was, trying to stay upright, and managed to get
in a couple of licks myself, but for the grace of God. If Monsigneur hadn't
arrived then, I don't think I would have lasted more than a few seconds more."
After a while with this racket - the students cheering for Henri, and Henri
roaring in rage more than once - Monsigneur Lavalle came down from the salle
to see what all the fuss was about. The sight who met him was rather unexpected -
he expected to see more blood at this stage, judging by the sounds of the fight.
Still, it seemed like this small, skinny little street urchin was keeping one
of his best students at bay - more or less, at least. Monsigneur Lavalle stopped
the fight.
"I am not quite sure what I expected when this tall, generously moustached
man with a bare chest and a tight, black pair of pants on him stepped into
the ring and commanded the other guy to cease. Personally, I was just immensely
relieved that the other man would stop kicking me. Obviously, I tried to run,
but a strong hand grabbed me by the scruff of my neck, and held me quite securely.
This time, I couldn't expect to get away with my loot."
After getting all the facts on the table, Monsigneur Lavalle made an unusual
decision. Through the entire interview, this little street urchin - Jean Xavier,
he said his name was - had been quite unafraid, even though he had been quite
thoroughly beaten before Monsigneur Lavalle had entered the picture. So, Monsigneur
Lavalle made a compromise. By giving Jean-Jaques the task of cleaning the salle
every day, he would pay Jean-Jaques a small amount of money for that task. And,
for that money, Jean-Jaques could over time make downpayments for the watch he
had destroyed.
"Obviously, I was quite stunned when Monsigneur presented his suggested deal
between me and him. Immediately, I thought that this man couldn't know anything
but anything about the world - sacre bleu, a so naive thought that I would actually
be there the next morning to clean this large hall was quite ridiculous for me.
"To my own surprise, the next morning I was outside the salle before they
opened. The wardrobe attendant let me in, and through the salle's glass wall
I watched while Monsigneur did his morning workout. I found it intensely
fascinating."
Jean-Jaques broke with his former street mates as well as he could. But when
they demanded that Jean-Jaques should steal one of the keys to Monsigneur's salle
so that the gang could take everything not nailed down (and if you got it loose
with a crowbar, it wasn't nailed down), his old and new life came into real conflict.
Wrestling for days with himself, Jean-Jaques came to the only conclusion he
could - if he were to be able to live with himself afterwards. Monsigneur was
so far the only one that had given Jean-Jaques even half a chance. Even Henri
had after a while stopped bearing quite the grudge he had to begin with. In short,
there was only one thing he could do if he were to be true to himself. He refused.
It was touch and go whether that would be the last thing he ever did. Monsigneur
found him unconscious on the stairs to the salle, stabbed, and with a pool of
blood around him. The trail of blood leading to the stairs showed that the
boy had wanted to go to the salle instead of a doctor, as it was here he had
felt safest in his short life. Monsigneur ran into the reception, and called
the emergency number for the ambulance, and started giving first aid to the
little boy.
"Why I went to the salle instead of somewhere else? Merde, where else
were there to go? It was, after all, the only place that had shown me
something besides a fist - and often that fist was traveling towards my
face when I was presented with it. Of course I went to the salle. I was scared,
yes, but my last thought was that I was hoping Monsigneur wouldn't be angry
with me because of the mess I was making on the stairs.
"I remember sitting down on the stairs to wait, because I was suddenly so very,
very tired and cold. That is really the last thing I can remember before I
woke up on the hospital. You wouldn't believe my surprise when I found Monsigneur
sitting by my bed. I was expecting a scolding, but instead got an incredible
offer I eagerly grabbed with both hands - and didn't let go."
Monsigneur Lavalle offered to adopt Jean, if Jean wanted to. And Jean wanted to,
obviously. It was a strange day for Jean the first time he stood on the stairs
to his new house, a house he would live in for more than a few days before he
were thrown out.
In one hand he held a bag of new clothes that Monsigneur Lavalle had bought,
and in the other - and infinitely more precious than the bag - he held the
callused hand of Monsigneur Lavalle. He had even a new name - Jaques Lavalle.
Continuing to attend his chores at the salle, Jean-Jaques even began attending
school. Even though he wasn't a very bright student, he wanted to do something
with his life. Early on, he set his goal - he wanted to be a doctor.
"Why I wanted to be a docteur? I am fairly certain that it was a combination
of the feeling of helplessness I felt when I sat on the stairs to the salle
with my hand pressed against my side, together with an intense wish to help
others that had suffered like I had.
"And, since Monsigneur approved - actually, he approved a great deal - I put up
a poster which would be with me for quite a few years. On that poster, there
was but one word - docteur. And under that word, there was a picture of me.
"Incidentally, it wasn't until quite some time later that I discovered the
docteur diplomas that Monsigneur had on his wall in his office."
The years that followed were among the happiest in Jean-Jaques' life. The
bond between Monsigneur Lavalle and him grew strong, and Jean-Jaques even
started practicing savate. The grades that Jean-Jaques took home were perhaps
not brilliant, but he was thorough in his work, and Monsigneur was pleased with
that. One day, he met some of his former 'friends'. By happenstance, he thought,
but it would soon be apparent that it was by design rather than happenstance.
"One day I was on my way home from school, I suddenly met some of my former
friends. It was soon apparent that they had the same design on me that they
had had two years or so before - they were to bully me to relinquish my keys
home, so that they could steal Monsigneur blind.
"One of the punks even had the guts to wave a stiletto around, asking if I
recognized it. Sacre, I got angry! Did they really think I would betray the
trust my father had given me? And did they really think that little knife
would convince me otherwise?
"I put down my school books, and looked at their smug grins - that they thought
I would ask to run with the apaches again. They stopped smiling when I kicked
the knife guy in the face - hard. Luckily, I got the knife away almost immediately,
and their starstruck expressions made it all worth it. Monsigneur came to my aid
after a while - he had finished early on the salle, and wanted to surprise me
with a trip to la Cinema, but when he came to my aid it was all more or less over."
Monsigneur Lavalle was actually a bit impressed with the entire episode,
perhaps especially the attitude his young, adoptive son seemed to have to it
all. They had threatened him with weapons, and Jean-Jaques had quickly demonstrated
to them how little he cared about that.
He was immensely pleased with his son. After this incident, the criminal element
that Jean-Jaques had previously belonged to got the message, and left Jean-Jaques
alone.
The years went by, and Jean-Jaques became a young medical student. Monsigneur
Lavalle greyed a bit at the temples, but was still in excellent shape. It was
a proud Monsigneur Lavalle that could bestow the silver bands to his son - the
ranking in Savate denoting his excellence. Four years later, an at least as proud
Monsigneur Lavalle could see that his son received his medical doctor's diploma.
"I must admit that these years gave me my rather ... extravagant habits. Monsigneur
is ... or rather, was ... a man of distinguished taste, and it is really only
natural for me to imitate this man who was - and still is - the one I admire
the most."
Jean-Jaques had long wanted to help others, and after having received his
doctor's diploma, he could open his own practice. In a fairly short while,
he got word to work affordably and be very thorough, and long days and
iron will made Jean-Jaques a man of some means.
Throughout this period, he still kept excellent contact with Monsigneur
Lavalle - it probably helped that he never left home. Every Saturday, he came
to the salle for a thorough workout together with Monsigneur Lavalle, and
Henri were there as well, more often than not. The friendship between the
street kid and the factory owner's son grew stronger and deeper through this
period.
The year Jean-Jaqued reached 25, Henri disappeared. Jean-Jaques had long
noticed that Henri had started to hang out with some really bad friends -
due to his experience with the criminal elements of Marseille, he recognized
if not their faces, at least their demeanor. He could feel that these were
really hard cases, and even though Henri was a grown man now, Jean-Jaques felt
Henri had trouble controlling himself when he were with these people.
Always something of a hothead, Henri got downright vicious and aggressive when
he were with his new friends, and often got mixed up in barroom brawls. After
an especially loud and long discussion between Henri and Monsigneur Lavalle about
his problems with controlling himself, Henri rushed out of the salle, running
past Jean-Jaques with barely a glance to spare. Henri jumped into a waiting
car, and roared away in a cloud of dust and squealing tires.
Monsigneur Lavalle didn't wish to tell Jean-Jaques what he and Henri had
discussed - even though Jean-Jaques had heard the shouting even outside the
salle - and only said that he was worried for Henri. Jean-Jaques tried to find
Henri a week or so later, but Henri was as if he had vanished from the face of the
Earth.
"It wasn't until years later - quite recently, actually - that I got an idea
about what had perhaps happened to Henri. I still hope that he some day knocks
on the door to my apartment, standing there as if nothing has happened, but I
fear that the criminal organization responsible for my father's death is also
responsible for Henri's death.
"Every day that passes lowers my hope of seeing Henri again alive just that
little bit, and the hate towards this large, faceless organization and its
hirelings goes up just that extra notch."
Jean-Jaques bought an old cloister some time later, and made it into a home
for orphans. Finally, he could help others that were in the situation he had
been in.
About six months later, Jean-Jaques noticed that Monsigneur Lavalle got more
and more preoccupied and irritable. He was in the middle of a project, he said,
but didn't want to discuss it with Jean-Jaques. This was something Jean-Jaques
found very strange - and hurtful as well - so he decided to follow Monsigneur Lavalle
around on one of his mysterious escapades.
If it weren't for the fact that Jean-Jaques could recognize Monsigneur Lavalle
if Jean-Jaques were deaf, dumb and blind, he wouldn't have recognized the man
that came out of the house where they lived. Jean-Jaques had told Monsigneur
Lavalle that he would be at the home for the orphaned children all night,
so he had counted on Monsigneur Lavalle to use that chance to make one of his
mysterious nightly trips. And so he did.
The man that came out of the door was so different from Monsigneur Lavalle
that it was hard for Jean-Jaques to believe his eyes. A man leaning heavily
on a primitive walking stick, clad in clothes so worn they were almost rags,
came out of the door, and looked furtively about before he locked the door
and went down the street to hail a cab.
"If I ever considered that it might be dangerous, whatever it was Monsigneur
Lavalle had gotten mixed up in? No, never! Of course not. At the very least
I expected that when Monsigneur discovered me - it was only a matter of time,
that I knew - he would tell me everything that was going on. But I must admit
that I doubted a few seconds when I saw the outfit he had chosen before he went
out that night. Sacre, I barely recognized him, and I was his son!"
Monsigneur Lavalle hailed a cab, and the cab then set a course for the harbor.
Worried, Jean-Jaques did the same - he, of all people, should know that the
Marseille docks were no place to be late at night. Suddenly, Jean-Jaques started
thinking about the expensive clothes he wore. Swearing under his breath, he took
of his coat and rolled it in the dirt on the floor of the cab, and smeared some
of the mud from his shoes out over his pants. Then he did his level best to destroy
the crease in his pants, and succeeded somewhat. When he looked up again,
they were in the harbor.
Monsigneur Lavalle got out of the cab, and immediately set the course for one
of the least respectable bars spread around in the harbor district. This particular
bar didn't look very different from most of the other bars of its kind Jean-Jaques
had seen, but since Monsigneur Lavalle had set a course for that particular
bar, so did Jean-Jaques.
Jean-Jaques made his way into the bar apparently unnoticed. Jean-Jaques saw that
Monsigneur Lavalle talked to the bartender, and then Monsigneur Lavalle went
into the back room. Jean-Jaques got a seat by the bar, and ordered bad
bourbon on the broadest Marseille-dialect he could manage. The bartender didn't
seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, and served Jean-Jaques.
"What I thought when I noticed the men - the same men that had been Henri's
'new friends' - come into the bar? Merde, I sunk so low over my glass I could
manage, while I started to shake. Not from fear, but from anger. At the same
time, I knew that if I didn't keep myself under control, I would never know
what it was Monsigneur was doing. I think I bit a splinter off of my glass
that evening."
After a few minutes, some really bad people entered the bar. Jean-Jaques
discovered to his astonishment that those were the same people who had been
together with Henri those last, fateful days before Henri disappeared. The
bartender just gave them a nod, and then the men made their way to the
back room. Everyhting was quiet for a while - the locals had just started to
trickle in in ones and twos - and then everything went bad.
A loud discussion had just started in the back room when Monsigneur Lavalle
suddenly came storming out. And he wasn't wearing his disguise! Hot on his
heels were three of the four men that had gone into the back room - one of
them were holding the basque that Monsigneur Lavalle had been wearing. It was
obvious that Monsigneur Lavalle's disguise had been penetrated.
"When I saw that Monsigneur wouldn't get out of the room - those local bastards
were blocking the door, and had made a sort of fighting ring in the room - I
jumped off my bar stool and shoved my way to Monsigneur. I must admit he seemed
a bit surprised when he recognized me, but soon we had more serious things
to worry about.
Three of the four men had taken off their trenchcoats, and had made ready in
one end of the impromptu salle. Monsigneur and I tore off our coats to be able
to move more freely. And that was all we had time for."
The fight was terrible, and Jean-Jaques was hard pressed to win just against
one of the three. The two others were fighting Monsigneur Lavalle, and never
had Jean-Jaques seen more excellent savate-fighting than the techniques that
Monsigneur Lavalle used then.
In the time Jean-Jaques had used to take down and out his opponent, Monsigneur
Lavalle had beaten both of his and was hunting down the fourth and last man.
That last man had started pushing and shoving his way through the throng of
people, and was almost out of the door when Monsigneur Lavalle got hold of the
trenchcoat of the man, and pulled. The man didn't budge, but the trenchcoat did.
All that Jean-Jaques saw before the man jumped up through the ceiling
of the bar, was a blue costume with a sort of shoulder and chest padding with
artificial jasmine flowers sewn on.
Monsigneur Lavalle stared after this man with hate in his eyes, and then resignedly
pushed his way towards the door. Just then they both become aware of a blue
glow sweeping through the room, and a dreadful smell - as of rotting, roasting
meat. Jean-Jaques looked back to the arena Monsigneur Lavalle and he had just
gotten out of, and almost threw up when he saw what was happening.
A small stream of smoke came from each person, and while Jean-Jaques was watching,
the blue glow completely consumed the bodies of the people. Only their crumbling,
yellowed skeletons remained as silent witnesses to the bodies that had once been there.
"When I got the explanation as far as Monsigneur could make it, I first thought
he had lost his mind. An evil, world-wide, secret criminal organization,
mental powers that could crush a man's free will, persons disappearing into
thin air... was it any wonder that I was stunned with disbelief?
"In the end I managed to grasp the notion that there existed an organization
with resources such as that. A small flame of hate started burning in me. If
these people were the scum that had kidnapped - or done worse - with Henri,
then they would pay, and pay dearly. Monsigneur asked me not to do anything
rash. Doubting, I agreed."
Three weeks passed, and nothing happened. Slowly, Jean-Jaques and Monsigneur
Lavalle found their normal rhythms, and tried not to think about what had happened
that particular night.
On a Saturday night, when Jean-Jaques was on his way to the salle, he suddenly
heard running - someone running away from the salle, and then a car that
accelerated suddenly, disappearing on squealing tires. Full of foreboding,
Jean-Jaques ran toward the salle, and in the wide open door. In the reception,
there was some smoke. Jean-Jaques put out the fire in the wardrobe as best he
could.
Accidentally glancing into the salle through the glass wall, he saw an unmoving
body in a pool of blood. With a sinking sensation, Jean-Jaques threw the fire
extinguisher through the glass wall, and jumped through the falling shards
of glass seconds later. When he got closer, it was obvious that Monsigneur
Lavalle was dead.
Monsigneur Lavalle had been killed by someone with a very large knife or
small sword - that was obvious from the wounds on his body. Blood on the
tips of his shoes showed that he had paid back at least a little before
he had succumbed to the sword. His left hand, packed into a tight fist even
in death, clenched something that told volumes. A small, artificial jasmine
flower.
Jean-Jaques was a driven man after this. Driven by the thought that he had
to avenge not only one of his best friends, but his father as well. Yet,
there was little he could do in Marseille - too many knew him, and knew of
him. A tip he got a while later made Jean-Jaques make up his mind.
Jean-Jaques sold everything he didn't need, and put up the Lavalle Foundation,
meant to help orphaned children in Marseille. This foundation is responsible
for the majority of the funds needed to keep the cloister going. Jean-Jaques
kept enough to still maintain his lifestyle, and moved to Los Angeles, USA.
In order to make it harder for his enemies to recognize him, he again changed
his name. This time, he changed it to Jean-Jaques Xavier, symbolizing that
he again would need the knowledge he had earned on the streets of Marseille.
"Eight months ago, I moved to the USA. I had gotten a tip about something
called the Street Fighting Circuit, where I might get hold of people with
connections to this nebulous organization responsible for the disappearance
of my friend and the death of my father.
"It was hard work getting in touch with this circuit, but I managed in the end.
My first fight was nothing special - I won, and Janice Avery lost. But I have
heard rumors of people with supernatural powers taking part of these tournaments,
and I guess it is one of these I am hunting for. Noone - but absolutely noone -
could best Monsigneur in an honest fight. The particular person I am looking
for, has a shoulder and chest protector studded with artificial jasmine flowers."
Apache: A French slang word meaning a criminal.
Jean-Jaques is a savateur. His trademark is speed and stamina. He prefers not
to harm his opponent needlessly - they are people too, after all. His fight
against Janice Avery was much like he likes his fights - he won, and without
hurting his opponent too much.
Knowing that he should be in a team to really get on the inside of the Street
Fighter Circuit, Jean-Jaques is trying to be accepted into the Eight Skilled
Gentlemen. If the name is any indication of how these persons behave, he
may have found a team that shares his sense of honor.
(Later, Jean-Jaques did indeed join the 8 Skilled Gentlemen, and did indeed
find them to be good allies in the search for someone on the inside of that
nebulous organization he had heard about. However, when this background story
was written, Jean-Jaques was but a lowly Rank 1 fighter, and had no team affiliation.)
Jean-Jaques has a very light and almost dance-like way of moving in the ring -
often frustrating opponents when they find it difficult to close to their range.
Even though Jean-Jaques is normally very affable, he undergoes a personality
change when he enters the ring. Gone is the affable, suave French gentleman,
and the beast he conceals under a civilized veneer is let loose.
It is through the fights in the ring he can get an outlet for the frustration
and hate that the death of his father and disappearance of his friend has given
him. This change makes his eyes grow cold and his face grow stony. Opponents
often find this change very intimidating, and have trouble concentrating the
first couple of rounds in the ring.
Jean-Jaques is normally dressed in light, but elegant and expensive clothes.
He has good taste, but has realized that he shouldn't dress too good in the
Street Fighter Circuit. Usually, he is dressed in a light jacket, with the
Savate leotard underneath a pair of light pants. He often carries a small
bag with him, where he carries some first aid equipment, together with his
specially-reinforced Savate shoes.
Jean-Jaques does know that Shadoloo exists, though he isn't aware of the
organization's name. He is a sworn enemy of Shadoloo - if he ever gets the
chance, he will find the Shadoloo assassin that killed Monsigneur Lavalle,
and defeat him or die trying. It is an open question whether he will try and
kill this assassin - whether his sense of honor is greater than his grief over
the death of Monsigneur.
It is difficult to say what really happened with Henri. There are several options
that can be explored during play - three of these are as follows: Henri was killed
by Shadoloo; he tried Ler Drit training, failed, and became a Revenant or
actually managed to complete the training but with his mind poisoned by M. Bison;
or he may be imprisoned somewhere - for instance, Mriganka.
Jean-Jaques understands what a Revenant is - he knows enough about such things
to understand that they seem to be a form of zombies - but doesn't know exactly
how Revenants are created. Furthermore, his interest in the occult is sharply
balanced by his medical education, and he would likely be shaken to the core
if someone showed him supernatural powers such as Fireballs, Ghost Form, or
perhaps Yoga Teleport.
Furthermore, Jean-Jaques has a huge "White Knight in Shining Armor"
complex, making him a good patsy for introducing plot lines. He will do whatever
he can to help those he perceives to be in need - all carefully balanced by
his "French womanizer" personality, of course. Though he is a snob, he usually
has no nasty "I got money, you don't" attitude. He will sometimes use certain
French terms - especially when he is afraid or surprised - but tries to speak
as good English as he can.
Marseille:
Jean-Jaques knows everyone in the Lavalle Foundation personally, and has some
clout there, though he has no official position in the Lavalle Foundation.
Marseille:
Jean-Jaques is familiar with practically every master of every salle in Marseille,
and is also a close friend with some experienced practitioners of Savate.
One can also consider the fact that Monsigneur Lavalle was a close friend of
many of the masters of Savate in Marseille, and any one of them would be very
interested in information about Monsigneur Lavalle's killer - and sure to
pass on any such information they might uncover.
Marseille:
Jean-Jaques has a fairly good relationship with many of the medical doctors
of Marseille - not only the younger doctors, but also many of the older ones
through his father. The older docteurs are very interested in seeing the
killer brought to justice, as Monsigneur Lavalle was a very well esteemed
gentleman. The younger docteurs are interested more on general principles.
Marseille:
Familiar with the criminal element in Marseille, Jean-Jaques doesn't know
any of the big fish - the people he know, or rather, know of, are mostly
pickpockets and small-time car thieves.
Paris:
Jean-Jaques knows of a couple of salle masters in this city as well, but
has no regular contact with them.
Jean-Jaques has no contacts in USA yet - however, he is starting to establish
contact with a salle in the Los Angeles area, where he lives. Jean-Jaques will
usually not be able to draw upon any contacts in the USA, but might be able
to get some small help from salles - in cities where there are any, of course.
Jean-Jaques has an unknown 'benefactor', which for instance gave him the tip
that lead him to the American Street Fighter Circuit. Exactly who this benefactor
is, and what his/her/their ulterior motives are, is something that Jean-Jaques
doesn't know. This means that information from this source (always per a letter,
not per phone or other voice messages, signed with "a friend of Monsigneur Lavalle and you")
will be interesting for Jean-Jaques, but not that he will trust the information
implicitly.